


Average Butterflies

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Martin Blackwood is average, unimportant even. He's never been anything special and those thoughts linger all the same but a later night call can be nice all the same.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	Average Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [negaposi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/negaposi/gifts).



Martin had never been anything special.

Average grades, average looks, average talent and skills. With a mop of dark curls and a body suggesting gentle softness and cuddles more than anything else, he'd never really been treasured or loved before. As an average person he never truly expected to be, as much as he longed for love and yearned for attention, mentally begging for just the slightest sliver of affection he could receive- Martin was average and very much alone.

Usually this led to nights spent in, burying his nose into some manga or movie, perhaps even fussing over his mother if she could stomach his presence without snapping too harshly at him. Sometimes he'd even sit out, perched on the balcony of his apartment and watching the street lights of London flicker and glow beyond.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The balcony is clean, tidy in comparison to the rest of his apartment layered in magazines and blankets as it bore only the necessities. Martin stayed quiet as he lowered his sky painted cup down upon the small mat upon the concrete floor, settling it squarely upon its dark green patterned surface. His pale hands had been warmed red, knuckles pinkened with the heat and his nose the same shade after having been steamed so thoroughly beneath the pale wisps rising from the tea. Beside it he plucked his glasses upward and put them on with little thought as he finally leant forward and dropped his chin upon the metal railing.

It was quiet tonight, the metal just as cold and cutting as the heavy handed breeze that pushed through the night and rustled the leaves of the trees and bushes below him. Easily it sliced through the fabric of his cable knit sweater and chilled his freckled skin but still he sat there, hunched and careless as a nonchalant sigh passed through his lips and carried with it a great deal of tiredness, exhaustion even.

The new job at the archives was hard work and as much as he'd enjoyed working at the library and often easily winging his way through the various more delicate tasks, the archives gathered with it a whole new level of complexity between research tasks and the social situation pinned upon him between the observation of his new boss, the conversation and constant banter Tim wrought and the studious, far more alert attention of Sasha who would surely see through him and his muddled mess any day now.

It was stressful and difficult and hard and Martin wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.  
Though… It wasn't as if he had much of a choice in the matter.

He had bills to pay, a mum and himself to feed and if he ever wanted to go out on one of those nights out with the 'crew' Tim was continuously mentioning then he'd need spending money. And with limited qualifications and only so much ability in the art of lying, the pay at the magnus institute was more than worth it.

Besides it wasn't the worst he'd ever had.

His nose still crinkled at the smell of grease from his first job spent serving beneath a maniacal dictator of manager at a take away while he was a teenager, scraping together the money he needed as things went from bad to worse and the pressure was piled onto his shoulders all the same- as though he were a grown man without a life to lead.

Maybe in another life he would've finished college, maybe he would have been special and maybe even excelled. Gone to uni and met a pretty guy. Maybe in another life he wasn't so painfully average.

But that was another life and right now Martin was stuck in this one, startling as his phone screen brightened and cheerfully sung a Queen inspired ringtone despite his more melancholic mood.  
Alarmed his eyes widened as he quickly read the contacts name and contemplated his options.

Jon- the boss.

Written in large white letters that made his eyes squint through the dim lighting as they flashed, once, twice and-

He tapped the green button and brung the brick to his ear, straining a moment to hear the relieved exhalation from Jon on the other side. He tried to still his hammering heart just as he tried to ignore the flush that rose to his cheeks.

"Oh Martin- thank god, listen I need your help-"

"Yeah Jon? How can I help?" Martin asked curiously, grappling the lump in his throat.

"There's some papers I need to find but-" Jon spoke regardless of Martin, disregarding him all the same, "They aren't where I thought they are. I know it's late but could you come and find them?"

Internally Martin can't help but be amused, his all knowing boss asking for help, a mark of vulnerability on his otherwise stern and stony expression. But all the same a night spent staring out at London wasn't particularly productive and well...  
Maybe Martin was average but nothing was average about the butterflies that rose in his stomach at the sound of just Jon's voice.

"Sure. I'm on my way."


End file.
